


The Hair Dye Affair

by LadyOfSnakes



Series: Shared Life Experiences [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Crossover, Mentions of Project Rebirth, Mentions of Steve Rogers - Freeform, Multi, Napoleon Solo is a Captain America fanboy, OT3 Fluff, Super Soldier Serum, mentions of the winter soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfSnakes/pseuds/LadyOfSnakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost 15 years after receiving a super soldier serum,  Illya realizes he has stopped aging. He decides it's time to tell his partners about his training, and the experiments done to him in the name of giving Russia a figure like Captain America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since I have apparently stalled a little with Shared Life Experiences, I decided to focus on this idea that has been bouncing around in my head since the beginning. Enjoy!
> 
> PS: Don't worry, Peggy's coming!

“Solo, you still smell like chemicals. Go wash them off before your skin burns. Should not take you so long.” Illya did not look up from his book as Napoleon strolled into the living room of their temporary apartment. It had been a relatively good day. They’d been in and out of a mad scientist’s lab with no incidents other than one of the lab lackey’s throwing a beaker at the American. It hadn’t seemed caustic at the time, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Gaby, on the other hand, looked Napoleon up and down in appreciation, as all he was wearing was one towel wrapped low around his hips, and another wrapped around his shoulders. “Those aren’t the chemicals you’re thinking of, Illya. Our man is too vain to let those linger.”

“Gaby, don’t ruin the illusion for him,” Napoleon sat down on the sofa beside her and draped his arm around her shoulders. “He’ll figure it out eventually.”

Finally, Illya did look up at them, carefully marking his place before setting his book down. “I do not like it when you talk like I am not here. What will I figure out eventually?”

“Solo---” Gaby started, before Napoleon interrupted her.

“If you tell him I will tickle you and requisition the ugliest shoes in the world for you in our next op.” Napoleon dropped his hand down to her side and pulled her closer to him.

Gaby laughed as she was tugged against his side. “I grew up in East Berlin! You think ugly shoes scare me as much as they do you?”

“Impossible. Both of you.” Illya shook his head. “Solo, why do you still smell like chemicals? What illusion is there?”

Napoleon and Gaby shared a pointed look before she elbowed him gently in the side. The American finally rolled his eyes and asked, “Illya, do you know how old I will be this year?”

“Forty-one.” Illya responded, without hesitation.

“Do you think it is normal for forty-one-year-old men with high-stress jobs like ours to never have gray hair? I imagine you have more than a few of your own. It’s just harder to see them when you are blond.”

“ _I_ do not have grey hair.” Illya said, then laughed. “You are a vain man, Solo.”

Gaby and Napoleon shared another look, before both of them stood up from the couch. In a moment, Gaby straddled Illya in his chair, effectively pinning him in place. Napoleon stood behind the chair and carded his hand through the Russian man’s hair, searching. If Illya planned on protesting, it was cut off by the woman in his lap kissing him hungrily. They knew he was capable of pushing them both off, but why would he want to? 

Illya’s hands dropped to Gaby’s thighs as he kissed back. She was wearing a dress with a short skirt, and his hands quickly found their way under the hem. Before they could get too into it however, Napoleon let go of his hair with a huff.

“He’s right, Gaby. I don’t see any grey hair.” He poked the top of Illya’s head. “Are you secretly dying your hair too, Illya?”

“No. I am not old and vain like you.” Illya tilted his head back and smiled up at their partner, who folded his arms across his chest in fake offense.

“You’re only two years younger than me, Peril. Remember that.” Napoleon leaned over the back of the chair and Gaby kissed him as well. “What do you think, Fräulein? Am I still the dashing young spy you fell in love with?”

Gaby laughed and leaned back a little. She took her time, looking over both of her lovers carefully, before she spoke. “Solo, you are starting to go from dashing to distinguished. And Illya, you look exactly as young as you did the first day we met.”

Illya ignored the wounded sound Napoleon made. “I look older.”

Gaby shook her head, “No, Illya. You don’t.”

“They must have carved our man from granite,” Napoleon said as he raked his fingers through Illya’s hair again. “Dug him straight out of a mountain like this, full-sized.”

Illya brushed Napoleon’s hand away and gently lifted Gaby off of his lap so he could stand. She let him get up without a fuss, and the tall man crossed the room to a small mirror on the wall. While he studied his own face, his partners studied him.

Without taking her eyes off Illya, Gaby asked Napoleon, “Wouldn’t it be marble?”

“Marble is soft. Water wears it down quickly. Granite doesn’t wear the same.” The American sat down on the couch again, also watching their partner. After a long moment, he asked, “Are you alright, Peril?”

Illya didn’t respond right away. Instead, he ran one finger over the scar on his temple, which had been there seven years ago, when they’d met. Then he traced another thin scar that cut a line in his upper lip. That one was from after he had joined U.N.C.L.E., and was the only real difference to his face.

He didn’t turn around. He stared at himself, or at the younger version of himself that was there. Gaby was right; _Napoleon’s_ face had changed over their seven years together. There were gentle lines around _his_ eyes, around _his_ mouth. Gaby had changed too, in much the same way. (Almost no one called her “girl” anymore, not even aging male scientists who underestimated her.)

Illya startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around, and Gaby ducked out of the way of his elbow, that would have caught her in her face otherwise. “Gaby! I’m sorry. I...:”

His voice trailed off. It had been a while since he had lost himself like that, so completely. He looked around the small apartment; Napoleon was fully dressed, the streetlight outside had turned on, someone had made tea. He had lost time, though less violently than he used to. “I’m sorry.”

“As I was saying, Illya,” Gaby said, as if he knew what she was talking about, as if he hadn’t almost accidentally taken her head off. “Come sit with us and have a drink.”

“I’m sorry.” Illya said again.

“Apology accepted, Illya. It’s okay. You’re back with us now.” She took his arm and guided him to the couch. It was only meant for two people, but the three of them fit when they sat hip-to-hip. Illya sunk into his seat between his partners and sipped the tea Napoleon pushed into his hands. 

The American draped his arm around Illya’s shoulder and swirled the bourbon in his own glass. “So what triggered that, Peril? You don’t spend that much time looking in mirrors typically.”

“I am not you, Cowboy.” Illya said, but there wasn’t any heat behind the jibe. He smiled a thin smile as he felt Gaby’s hand on his thigh. His partners surrounded him, like they always did. “I think there is something I need to tell you, about my training.”

Gaby squeezed Illya’s thigh gently and smiled warmly up at him before taking a sip of her own drink. (Not tea. Only Illya drank tea at night.) “Did they train you to stay young and healthy forever?”

“No,” Illya said, “I think that was the serum.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Serum?” Gaby asked, her eyebrows drawing together. “What do you mean?”

“Do the Soviets have a fountain of youth, Peril? Have you told Waverly about this?” Napoleon’s voice was joking, but his arm tightened slightly around Illya’s shoulders, as if he could protect his partner from something that had already happened.

Illya shook his head. “I didn’t think it was relevant. They told me it didn’t work. It was a super soldier serum, like what your government gave to Captain America in the forties.”

Gaby started to laugh, surprising her partners. Between giggles, she managed, “You’re saying the KGB _believed_ that propaganda? He’s a comic book character.”

“Captain America was real!” Napoleon said, glaring over at Gaby. “And I think we should be _listening_ ; this obviously isn’t easy for Illya to talk about, if this is the first we are hearing about it.”

Illya sipped his tea and nodded slightly at Napoleon’s words. Over the years, they had told each other so much about themselves, but there had always been gaps. With their careers, they had to keep some things quiet. This had been one of those things for so long, he didn’t know how to approach it. “I do not remember much of the experiments. They had me sedated. After, they had me run tests, and the improvement was not significant. Everyone thought it had failed.”

“They were trying to turn you into Captain Russia.” Napoleon said.

“The name they used at the time was Winter Soldier.”

Napoleon looked up at him, “I’ve heard that name before, during a case with the CIA. It never led to anything.” 

“I think someone borrows the name when they cannot find a culprit. I have heard it too, but there is no Winter Soldier. Just me.” Illya put his tea down on the coffee table and settled in between his partners again. “I thought it was over. I did not think of the long-term effects until now.”

“And you haven’t told Waverly?” Gaby asked as she leaned into Illya’s shoulder. “What if there are other side-effects?”

Illya shook his head. “I have not. And I have seen doctors since then. No one has found a problem.”

“Other than you always being....what, twenty-six?” Gaby gently reached up to cup his cheek in her hand. “You look younger than I do. I don’t know how I didn’t see it until now.”

“Twenty-five. It was 1956.”

“You look a little like Captain America, you know.” Napoleon let his hand wander up to play with Illya’s hair again. “I met him once.”

“ _Really_?” Gaby asked. “Or did you meet an actor who played him?”

“It was Captain Steve Rogers.” Napoleon said, and neither of his partners needed to look at him to know he was pouting. “He gave me a certificate for collecting the most scrap metal in my school, and then lifted a motorcycle over his head. Best day of my life.”

Illya laughed at that, “I will pick up a motorcycle for you, Cowboy.”

“You have already done that, Illya.” Gaby said, before draining the last of her drink. “And I really think you should talk to Waverly about this. We know your old bosses aren’t happy with you. If they realize that this serum worked more than they thought, they could come after you again.”

“I do not want more experiments done on me, Gaby.” Illya said. He took her hand in his and gently squeezed it. “What if they think I am of more use in the lab than in the field? I do not want to leave you. Either of you.”

Gaby squeezed his hand back, “He won’t take you out of the field. We won’t let him.”

“You’re stuck with us, Peril.” Napoleon’s hand was solid on his shoulder.

Illya smiled and closed his eyes. His thoughts were still racing, but for the moment, he was calm. He could talk to Waverly tomorrow, and so long as he could stay in the field, maybe talking to some scientists would not be a bad idea. If he wasn’t getting older, who knew what else might be happening to him? “Then I will tell Waverly tomorrow when we report in.”

His smile grew a little wider. “And do not think I forgot that you dye your hair, Cowboy. That is useful information.”

“Also, now we know how much he loved Captain America.” Gaby laughed, then gently elbowed Illya, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that wasn’t nearly quiet enough to be private. “Do you think that is why Solo loves you too? He said you look like him.”

Napoleon shook his head and untangled himself from the couch, then stood to refill his drink. Gaby tipped her glass toward the American and he refilled it anyway, despite the look he shot at her. “You don’t understand. Heathens. Steve Rogers was a hero. It is an honor to be compared to him.”

“ _Danke._ I think it is good you met Captain America as a child.” Gaby said, her eyes sparkling as she lifted her glass to her lips again. “He never knew the boy with the scrap metal became a spy with light fingers.”

Illya laughed and made himself comfortable as Napoleon snapped back a reply at her. “Maybe we can find you some comic books, Cowboy.”

With two against one, Napoleon just threw his hands up in the air.

The next day, the conversation with Waverly lasted shorter than Illya had been expecting. The British man had listened carefully, then instructed them to stay at their safehouse until he contacted them again with more directions. That itself was not unusual, but it was a little surprising that he called them again within just a few hours.

_”Illya, you are right, you are most valuable in the field. We do want to do a little research though.”_ Waverly said, his voice crackling over the transceiver.

“Are we being recalled, sir?” Illya replied. His eyes flicked over to Napoleon’s, and the other man put a hand on his shoulder again.

_”No. I’m sending some experts to you.”_

Illya took a deep breath, hoping that U.N.C.L.E. wasn’t recruiting enemy scientists, like it was rumored the Americans had done after the war. “Experts, sir?”

_“I called a friend of mine to help. They were involved in Project Rebirth. The original, with Captain Rogers from America.”_

“Yes, sir.”

Either the radio was not set perfectly, or else there was a distinct note of mirth in Waverly’s voice. _“I think Gaby will enjoy this. Their code word is lunchtime. Waverly, over and out.”_

It was only a few hours later that there was a knock at the apartment door and a buzz at the intercom. Before any could respond, the speaker crackled to life.

The man’s voice was cheery, with just a hint of a New York accent. _“Open up, it’s lunchtime. We’ve got some takeout with us.”_

Gaby opened the door and stepped back to let the experts in. Illya only had time to give them a quick once-over-- a middle-aged woman carrying a briefcase and a familiar-looking man with greying hair holding a takeout bag--before his partner gasped in surprise.

Gaby, usually so cool and collected, nearly slammed the door behind them before turning and looking up at the man. “You’re _Howard Stark_.”

“Yes, he is.” The woman said, putting down her briefcase and holding out a hand towards Gaby. “And I’m Peggy Carter. You must be Gaby. Alexander has told me quite a bit about you and your team.”


	3. Chapter 3

It only took a minute for all the introductions to conclude. Soon, Napoleon had realized that the consultants had not actually brought takeout and busied himself in the kitchen. Gaby helped Howard Stark set up his equipment, asking few questions and taking in as much of the setup as she could.

(He heard Gaby ask how they planned on detecting the serum if the original scientists hadn’t been able to. Stark said something about “Vita Rays” and patted a strange looking device on the table.)

Thought both of his partners were busy, Illya knew they were also carefully eavesdropping as the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. questioned him. She was polite about it, both of them seated comfortably and she had asked for his agreement before taking a small steno pad out of her handbag so she could take notes.

“Mr. Kuryakin, how were you selected to take part in this experiment?” 

Illya’s fingers twitched, but only for a moment. This was not a time to be angry, and she was not accusing him of anything. “I volunteered. We were aware it would be dangerous, but I did not see another option for me. I believed they would never have let me advance otherwise, because of my father.”

“Alexander told me you do not remember specifics of the experiment. Is that correct?” Peggy’s demeanor was even and professional, which made it a bit easier on him. There wasn’t any pity in her voice, or anything that could be mistaken for it.

“They had me heavily sedated for much of it. I remember the diagnostics tests before the procedure, and then afterwards they told me I had not improved enough, and the Winter Soldier program was shut down soon after. I was reassigned.”

“Do you have any reason to believe the program could have been reinstated? Were there other Winter Soldiers?”

“To my knowledge, no one else survived the procedure.”

She nodded a tiny bit and turned the page in her steno pad to continue taking notes. “Yes, Mr. Kuryakin. If you are indeed enhanced, you are part of an elite group. I have heard of at least twenty five attempts to create the super soldier serum, and only three men have survived. Captain Rogers, Johann Schmidt, and you.”

Illya’s throat went dry. He knew the serum had not affected him in the same way as it had Captain America. But he had not considered if it had made him like the _other_ super soldier. “I am not like him, Director Carter. Them. Either of them.”

“I realize that, Mr. Kuryakin.” Peggy put her pen down then. “I believe that Howard has finished setting up his equipment. Why don’t we move on for now? We will need a blood sample.”

Illya’s eyes flicked over to the table, where a miniature lab had been set up. He’d seen enough field labs to recognize some of the equipment, but most of it was foreign to him. He hesitated, a protest stopping in his throat before he could word it properly.

It had been so long. Outside of Oleg, no one in the field had known about the experiments. No one had ever questioned him about 1956, about what he had done. (What had been done _to_ him.) He’d managed to believe that nothing had happened. Even telling his partners hadn’t made it quite real. This, however...

“Is there a problem, Mr. Kuryakin?” Peggy asked, her voice dropping a little quieter.

He shook his head and stood. His face set, Illya crossed the room to the chair Stark had set beside the lab equipment. He sat down, then rolled the sleeve of his sweater up to his elbow, readying himself.

Illya felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and looked up at Napoleon. The man had his ridiculous apron on, but his hand on Illya’s shoulder felt solid and reassuring.

“Now, our partner here is being very cooperative,” Napoleon said with a smile that very uncooperatively did not meet his eyes. “But I think he deserves to know what you will be doing with his blood.”

“Solo...” Illya started, but Gaby jumped in too before he could really protest. 

“That’s right.” Gaby slid into the spot beside Napoleon, and Illya felt her hand on the back of his chair. “Will the sample be used to make more super soldiers?”

Illya jerked at that, pulling his arm in impulsively to protect it from the needle Stark had not even picked up yet. Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D. was an ally of U.N.C.L.E., and if Waverly trusted Carter and Stark enough to send them to the safehouse, he should trust them as well.

Napoleon squeezed Illya’s shoulder gently and continued, “S.H.I.E.L.D. is based in the United States, and as big a fan as I was of Captain Steve Rogers, I don’t think an army of super soldiers would be best in the current political climate, don’t you think?”

(Later, Illya would wonder how Napoleon could manage to keep his voice that even, as if he was commending on the actual climate.)

Howard Stark spoke up for the first time since he’d finished setting up the lab, “Listen, we were asked to come here to see if the Reds have cracked the serum, even if they didn’t realize it. I left my pregnant wife at home for this, and I don’t appreciate your tone.”

The hand on Illya’s shoulder tightened again, and he felt Gaby stiffen behind him too. She had been so excited to meet Stark when he had arrived, but if he could guess as well as he believed he could, he thought she was just a moment or two from throwing the man out of the window, fire escape be damned.

“We’ll destroy the sample after we test it.” Peggy pronounced, and all eyes turned to her. “Whether you are a super soldier or not, and no matter what has apparently stopped your aging.”

Stark leaned against the table with the makeshift lab and rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Pegs, no one wants to make more super soldiers, but if he’s not aging, there’s _something_ there.”

“We will not profit off of someone else’s blood, Howard.” Peggy said before she frowned. “And you know if anyone else found out there was even another potential super soldier alive, the arms race would turn to human experiments in a heartbeat. We will destroy the sample after testing it.”

She said it with finality, and there was only a moment there she and Stark stared at each other before he blinked and threw his hands up in the air.

“Fine, fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Stark grumbled.

Peggy turned back to Illya and his partners, a small smile on her face. “Is that sufficient? We will destroy the sample right here, in front of you. No one will be using your blood for anything else.”

Illya felt the eyes of both of his partners on him as he carefully rearranged his sleeve and put his bare arm on the table. “Director Carter, it would be a pleasure.”

She nodded. “Excellent. And Illya, please call me Peggy.”


End file.
